Bright
by Kalira69
Summary: Madara has once more had an irreversible shift of perspective all but forced upon him by a Senju, but this time it isn't Hashirama behind the sudden change . . . and Madara was even less prepared to handle this one.


Written for the 'Smile' space on my **fluffbingo** card for 2019 Q2.

* * *

Tobirama lightly tossed aside the papers he held - they landed in a messy slide right in front of _Madara_, and he drew a breath, puffing up, but-

Tobirama's sharp mouth suddenly looked less aggressive, thin lips drawn into a surprisingly generous curve, his eyes bright but no longer icy, the angular lines of his cheeks and jaw softened by the expression. Madara opened his mouth again, then closed it, looking down at Hashirama's desk in front of him, then immediately back up at Tobirama.

It- It shouldn't have been so dramatic, he told himself, struggling somehow as he tried to remember harsh glares and a scowling mouth from that face. But like this Tobirama looked. . .

Madara ducked his head slightly, coughing. Tobirama was . . . _gorgeous_, like this, and he suddenly could see nothing else.

"Madara? Are you all right?" Hashirama's voice broke into Madara's deep contemplation of Tobirama's . . . smile. He mostly suppressed his twitch reaction and dragged his gaze away from the enchanting sight to look at his best friend instead. Reluctantly.

He paused, eyes darting from the tiny puff of feathers perched on the brim of Hashirama's ridiculous hat, down to his face. He didn't know the bird was there, clearly. "Fine." Madara said, unable to quite quash a little laugh, a grin tugging at his lips. "Why would you ask?" He looked back at Tobirama, who met his eyes, that amazing little smile widening.

"Well, Uchiha," Tobirama said, even his voice warmed somehow by the smile, "you haven't raised an objection in almost five minutes. I can understand Anija's concern. Surely you must be feeling unwell?" he inquired with patient mock-concern.

"Oh- _Excuse_ you!" Madara spluttered, but he _didn't_ remember what Tobirama had been talking about before that smile transformed his face. "I'll speak up when there's something important to say!" he blustered.

"Of course you would never offer unimportant comments simply to be argumentative." Tobirama said dryly, and Madara huffed.

"_Oh!_" Hashirama cried, interrupting his response, and he and Tobirama both looked back at Hashirama just in time to see him leap up on the other side of his desk. "You two! You're getting along! Are you _friends_ now? I knew you could be! I'm so glad!"

The tiny bird abandoned its perch in a flurry of feathers and dove for the window. Madara couldn't blame it - he'd been tempted to take that egress several times when faced with an exuberant Hashirama.

Unfortunately, the soft curve of Tobirama's mouth had also fled, and he all but glared at Hashirama. Madara mourned the loss a little, though he _should_ be putting it out of his mind as quickly as possible. "Anija, we are _trying_ to get work done," Tobirama said sharply, then shifted back in his seat, crossing his legs, "as we _have_ been, the three of us together, for months. This is hardly a new development. Now calm down and _sit_ down and review this missive!"

Hashirama wilted under his brother's scolding, and Madara's attention was refocused on the matters at hand. _Now_ he remembered, and he bristled as Hashirama read out one portion of the response they had received from the dratted Nara.

Once they had finished with the tangled mess of that correspondence, Tobirama departed to oversee something relating to the new Academy he was designing. Madara was desperately curious, and also faintly wished he was _not_ being left alone with Hashirama to go over tax rates.

The math wasn't difficult for him, but dealing with Hashirama was . . . _taxing_, and trying to find fair rates for what they had already devised, scaled for different types of residents, was a struggle.

When Madara left the Hokage's office - the project finally put aside for the day - he found himself heading, not for his own - or for the archives - but rather along towards Tobirama's. He had faint thoughts of wishing to see that pretty smile again, though he had no idea how he could manage _that_ \- he'd never seen so much as a twitch towards a smile on the man's face before.

He could, at least, he thought, be . . . friendly. Hashirama was an overenthusiastic idiot, as ever, but Tobirama was not incorrect in that they had been working together - and well - for months now, and Hashirama was probably not entirely off target in his insistence that it would go even better if their relationship were more cordial.

Madara knocked on Tobirama's door before he could hesitate too much, stepping inside when Tobirama called a slightly short command.

"Madara-san." Tobirama looked at him, clearly nonplussed. "Is there something you and my brother require my assistance with again?" he asked dubiously. A fair reaction; Hashirama would no doubt have come to fetch Tobirama himself. He often did, even, at times, when it was unnecessary.

"No, we've finished for today." Madara winced. "The tax code is not a fun maze to drag your brother through." he said wryly.

Tobirama snorted, his eyes sparkling a little, and Madara couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips even though Tobirama's own thin lips were still drawn in an almost harsh line. "Ah, well, I do not envy you _that_ task." he said, arching a brow.

"I would dump it in your lap in a heartbeat." Madara said before he could stop himself, failing - as ever, it seemed - to rein in his impulsive reactions to Tobirama.

"You volunteered for it in the first place." Tobirama countered dryly, leaning forwards against his desk and bracing his chin on his fist.

Madara shrugged - he _had_, he knew it was a place he could put his talents to good use, and Hashirama _definitely_ needed the help. And he wouldn't honestly throw it at Tobirama - it was something he was good at, and Tobirama already handled more than his fair share of the administrative work for the nascent village, Madara was aware.

"So, if you don't require my assistance," Tobirama said, raising his eyebrows, "what is it that brings you to my door?" he asked, his tone a little warmer. There might even have been the faintest hint of a curve softening his mouth, they Madara was well aware he might be imagining it from how much he _wished_ to see it. Often, if he could.

"Have dinner with me?" Madara asked, and Tobirama stiffened, his hand dropping to the desk as his eyes widened. Madara's brows drew together and he suddenly realised what had slipped out of his distracted mouth. He flinched.

"Not . . . for work." Tobirama concluded slowly, eyes searching Madara's expression, and Madara opened his mouth. "All right." Tobirama said before he could try and take back or somehow fix what he'd said. He stared. Tobirama looked down at his desk, neatening the papers he had knocked askew when he dropped his arm, then glanced back up at Madara with a _definite_ hint of that smile returning, his fringe just barely shading his eyes. "After work?"

"After work." Madara agreed faintly, not quite sure he was hearing correctly.

"If you don't need anything else. . ." Tobirama said after a moment, gesturing with a handful of paper.

Madara startled. "Right. No. Of course." he agreed, nodding hurriedly and taking a step back.

"I don't want to be stuck working late tonight, after all." Tobirama said slyly, and Madara stepped solidly into the doorframe.

He backed through the door and closed it with the bright sight of Tobirama's smile, his crinkled eyes, emblazoned in his mind, the soft, deep rumble of Tobirama's laughter chasing after him. Madara grinned.


End file.
